First Night Back
by alynwa
Summary: Illya and Napoleon's first night back from a mission does not go as planned.  I don't own them, not sure who does.  I


First Night Back

Napoleon was sitting at his desk trying very hard to get on his partner's nerves and was succeeding admirably. He had finished writing his share of the mission report and wanted Illya to finish his because, well because he was bored and wanted to talk to his partner. "Hurry up!" he told the Russian as he threw a paper clip at him.

"Napoleon," Illya growled, "just because you, for once, actually finished before I did is no reason to keep distracting me. I warn you: If you throw onemore thing at me, I will come over there and beat you severely about the head and shoulders. Am I making myself clear?" He had to work hard not to laugh at the sight of UNCLE New York's Chief Enforcement Agent pouting after being chastised. _Imagine me saying _that_ to my superiors back in the USSR, _he thought amusedly. Aloud, he said, "Why are you acting like you have nothing better to do other than wait for me when we both know that you're going to walk out of this office and make a date with one of the dozen women who started drooling the second we came through the door?"

Napoleon swiveled his chair so that he could lean back and cross his feet on his desk and have them facing the door. "Because, my Russian friend, I've decided I want to do something a little different this time. I want to have drinks and dinner with you instead. It got a little dicey back there for awhile and I just want to celebrate the fact that we're alive and we're home, unless," he glanced over at Illya who had stopped typing to stare at him, "you have already made plans. Have you?"

"No, I have not," Illya replied. _He must have been really shaken up. _"Napoleon," he said softly, "I am alright, you got to me in time. I know how you like to spend your first night home. We can get together tomorrow like normal. Don't feel obligated…"

"I do _not_ feel obligated, Illya," Napoleon interjected, "We've been partners for more than a year and we've never spent our first night home with each other unless one of us was in Medical. I want to change that, that's all. Come on. My treat."

"Do I get to choose the restaurant?"

The senior agent smiled and nodded, "Whatever you want."

Illya turned his attention back to his typewriter. "Fine, I will go to dinner with you but, I must go home first. I need to shower and I want to throw out the science experiment that is in my refrigerator." At Napoleon's look of confusion, he explained, "We left so suddenly, I'm sure the blini I had intended to eat for dinner that night have grown into something rather disgusting. I don't want to look at it after eating and drinking. Are you sure you wouldn't rather do your usual thing tonight? You haven't dated any of the new secretaries yet."

Napoleon smiled. He said, "They can wait until tomorrow. I'll meet you at your place at 7:30."

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

_I _knew_ it, _Illya thought fatalistically as he poured himself another shot of vodka. _Napoleon's libido obviously got the best of him, which is fine but, at least he could have called to cancel. _It was 9PM and Illya was royally pissed at his partner for standing him up. He had tried contacting him on the communicator with no success. _This wasn't even my idea! Blockhead. All he had to do was call to say his "Little Emperor" demanded attention and had made a better deal. I would have been fine with it. When I see him tomorrow, I am going to kick his a… _The trilling of the communicator pen broke into his train of thought. He walked over to the chair he had slung his jacket over and pulled the pen out of his front pocket.

"Kuryakin."

He was greeted by the clipped British voice of his superior, Mr. Waverly, "Mr. Kuryakin, I want you to go to St. Vincent's Hospital. I believe that's only eight blocks from your apartment, correct?"

Illya was already pulling on his jacket. "Yes, sir. I can walk there. What would you have me do when I arrive?" He thought, _It's just as well Napoleon failed to show, I would have had to leave my dinner. Perhaps I can work off some of this aggravation I'm feeling while on this errand._

"We received a call on the Emergency Contact Number that my 'nephew Napoleon' has been brought into their Emergency Room badly injured," Mr. Waverly answered. "I want you to ascertain what and who caused Mr. Solo to require medical treatment, when he can be transferred to our Medical Unit and I want you to provide security for him until Section Three sends your relief in the morning. Contact me when you have answers. Waverly out." 

Illya felt as if he had been thrown into an ice – cold shower. Fear and guilt propelled him out his door onto the sidewalk and into a dead run toward the hospital. He went in the Emergency entrance and saw a nurse sitting at a desk. He approached her and panted out, "Miss, excuse me. My cousin, Napoleon Solo, was brought in here injured approximately one hour ago. The hospital called our uncle and he has sent me to see about him. Can you help me?"

The nurse, Miss Reynolds according to her nametag, was about to tell him to be patient, take a seat and wait but, when she looked up at him, he looked so stricken, she took pity and said, "Just one moment." She reviewed some papers and then used the phone. She asked about Napoleon's status and was placed on hold. After five or six minutes, she said, "Yes, I'm here," and listened for a few minutes longer, said, "Thank you" and hung up. She looked up at the blond man standing before her and said, "Mr. Solo is in surgery and probably will be for at least the next two hours. Are you alright?"

Illya had visibly blanched. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just that…we are a close-knit family. Do you know what happened?"

Nurse Reynolds checked her papers again. "It says here that Mr. Solo pushed someone out of the way of an oncoming car. The police brought him in their squad car. They may actually still be here; I heard one of them call in on his radio to say they were taking their meal here. The cops know our cafeteria food is really good and it's cheaper than the restaurants in the immediate area. Take the elevator to the first floor for the cafeteria or to the sixth floor for the waiting area for surgery."

"Thank you, Nurse. You have been most kind," Illya replied. He went to the elevator bank and waited. _I better check with the police first. I must know if this was THRUSH or some other enemy. _

Illya rode up one floor to go to the cafeteria. Upon entering, he looked around and saw only two police officers in the room. He walked over to them and introduced himself as Napoleon's cousin. "I was told by the ER desk nurse that you brought Mr. Solo to the hospital. Do you know how he was injured?"

The older of the two cops looked Illya up and down and said, "That guy we brought in had some interesting ID on him. You got anything like that?"

Illya pulled out his wallet and produced his UNCLE ID card. "Did it look anything like this?" he asked.

Both officers looked over his ID, glanced at each other and nodded. Inwardly, Illya was pleased to know that they had seen Napoleon's ID and were aware enough to want some verification of why Illya had an interest in him.

Officer Pegues, the older officer, spoke first, "He's a hero from what the witnesses told us. There was a collision on the corner of 86th and Lexington; a limo hit a cab and the cab driver lost control and came up on the sidewalk heading straight for a mother walking with a three year old. Somehow, he got in between the car and the mom and managed to push them to safety before the cab hit him and slammed him into the brick wall. Both the cab driver and the limo driver stayed at the scene and gave statements. The woman he pushed out of the way came to the hospital about twenty minutes after we arrived because she wants to know if he's going to be OK. I think she's still in the waiting room upstairs."

Illya processed what Officer Pegues told him and felt a weight lift from his shoulders. _Not a THRUSH plot, just a horrible random accident. _He stated, "The desk nurse in the ER said you brought him in your squad car. Isn't that unusual?"

This time the younger looking cop answered, "Your _'cousin'_ looked to be in bad shape and once my partner found his UNCLE ID, we felt it best to get him to a more secure location so, we picked him up as gently as we could and put him in the back seat of our patrol car and rushed him to the hospital. The ambulance hadn't even arrived when we left. We were going to guard him but, I guess we'll leave since you're here."

Illya thanked the two officers and headed back to the elevators. He got into an empty car and pressed 6. He pulled the "stop" button when he estimated it was between floors and then pulled his communicator pen out of his pocket and said, "Open Channel D, please."

"Yes, Mr. Kuryakin, what have you found out?"

"Mr. Waverly, Napoleon is in surgery now; I do not know his condition. I will speak to the doctor later. The police who brought him here stated that it was an automobile accident that began the chain of events leading to Napoleon's injuries. Apparently, he would have sustained no injuries at all if he had not prevented a woman and child from being struck by an out of control vehicle. I think it is safe to say there is nothing diabolical going on at the moment." He heard a loud sigh through the pen.

"Very well, Mr. Kuryakin. At least, we don't have to worry about _that._ I am assigning you to provide security for your partner until your relief arrives at 6AM tomorrow morning."

Illya started to say, "Mr. Waverly, I respectfully request…"

Mr. Waverly's tone when he cut Illya off brooked no argument. "No, Mr. Kuryakin, it does neither Mr. Solo nor the organization any good to have you there twenty – four hours a day. You _will _leave the hospital to go home and rest when your relief arrives and you will not report back until 9PM."

Illya's shoulders slumped in defeat as he acknowledged his orders. "Yes, sir. Kuryakin out." He put his pen away and then pushed the "stop" button to continue ascending to the sixth floor. He glanced at his watch. _10:30. Just_ then, his stomach growled as if to remind him that he had not eaten dinner. An orderly directed him to the waiting room. When he got there, he saw one woman sitting reading a magazine. Thankfully, he also saw in the corner three vending machines; one for coffee, one for soups and sandwiches and one for candies, chips and crackers. _Oh, Napoleon, this was not the dinner I had in mind for tonight. _After he chose a turkey and cheese hero, coffee and a chocolate bar, he moved to sit in the row of chairs facing the woman with the magazine.

He didn't intend to eat as quickly as he did but, the first bite told him he was very hungry. He was glad the woman had only looked up when he sat down and had gone back to reading because he was sure she would have thought him a classless boor with the manners of a hyena.

"Excuse me," he said while he wiped his mouth, "Are you the young lady my cousin saved from a runaway cab?"

She put her magazine down and replied, "If your cousin is Napoleon Solo, then yes, I am. I came here to see if he's going to be alright; the doctor promised he would speak to me after he completes surgery. He's been in there for about three and a half hours. Mr…."

"Illya, please."

"Illya. My name is Millie. My son was walking on my left. If Mr. Solo hadn't pushed us, my little boy would have been crushed under that car. He saved him, he saved both of us. I really just want him to be OK so I can say 'thank you.'" She reached into her purse for a tissue and wiped her eyes.

Illya studied her. She appeared to be Latina; he assumed Puerto Rican, somewhere between twenty and twenty – five years old and probably stood about five feet three inches tall. He was glad she was there because she was the last participant in the accident and he felt comfortable now that she presented no threat to Napoleon.

Before they could say anything else, the doors heading to surgery opened and a man in a lab coat stepped through. "Hello, I'm Doctor Jameson. Is one of you a relative of Napoleon Solo?"

Illya stood up and responded, "I am. My name is Illya Kuryakin. This is the woman he saved so you can speak to both of us."

Dr. Jameson nodded and said, "Mr. Solo is a very lucky man; his injuries could have and, probably _should_ have been worse. His left shin is broken but, it broke cleanly so it wasn't difficult to set. He has some badly bruised ribs, his liver was torn but we stitched it up. No major arteries were damaged. He looks worse than he is. He's got a lot of scrapes and bruises but, he should recover nicely."

Millie whispered "Thank God." She turned to Illya and said, "Please, I have to get back home to my son; my husband has to go to work soon. Please tell your cousin 'Thank

you' for me. I'm really glad he's going to be alright." At Illya's nod, she gathered her things and left.

Illya shook the doctor's hand and said, "Thank you, Doctor, for taking good care of him. My family wants to transfer him to another facility closer to home. When can he be moved?"

The doctor replied, "He can be transferred tomorrow afternoon. I will put it into his chart that he will be moved tomorrow."

"Good. We'll send a private ambulance. I want to see him now and I'll be staying in the room. I assume the police officers told you they wanted him to be guarded?"

Doctor Jameson said, "Yes, they did but, I'm not sure why." He motioned for Illya to follow him through the doors and down the hallway to a patient elevator that they took to the tenth floor. Illya was happy to see that Napoleon's room was at the end of the hall, which meant that any footfalls he heard during the night would be coming to the room and he wouldn't have to be driven to distraction because of people walking past all night.

Napoleon's face had two scrapes on it but, was otherwise undamaged. Illya stood by the bed and watched his partner breathe. He looked peaceful and not in too much discomfort. Illya unbuttoned his jacket, pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. "Doctor, should I be expecting anyone to come in here before 6AM?"

"No, not really. I left orders that he could have pain meds if he needs it; I could cancel that order and leave the meds with you if that makes you feel more secure."

Illya smiled and said, "That would be great, thank you." The Russian yawned and looked at the Doctor, who got the hint.

"I'll be right back with the meds. If he wakes in pain, he can have one pill every six hours," the doctor said and turned and walked out the door. Ten minutes later, he returned with two pills and placed them on the nightstand. "Goodnight, Mr. Kuryakin."

Illya waited a moment before getting up and locking the room door. He retrieved his communicator and said quietly, "Open Channel D."

Mr. Waverly's voice answered immediately, "Yes, Mr. Kuryakin. Do you have something to report?"

_Does the man ever sleep? _"Yes, sir," Illya answered, "The doctor who performed surgery on Napoleon said that he can be transferred tomorrow afternoon. He did sustain a broken leg and a lacerated liver but, those were able to be repaired. His other injuries consist of scrapes and deep bruising."

The Old Man harrumphed and retorted, "Yes, well, I'll feel better about it once he's here in Medical and _our_ staff examines him. Goodnight, Mr. Kuryakin. Waverly out."

He sat in the chair and took his partner's hand gently in his own. He rubbed his thumb across Napoleon's knuckles and said softly, "I'm here, Napoleon. I'm right here. You were hurt saving a mother and child but, you're going to be fine. She said thank you, by the way. You're becoming quite the hero; first, you save me from certain death and then you save two innocents from great harm."

He sighed and looked at his partner's face. _He'll probably sleep through the night. _He turned around so that he could see the door and put his left elbow on the bed and rested his head upon his fist. He patted the brunet's hand with his right and said, "I owe you an apology, Napoleon, and you will get it when you awaken. I could have showered and changed at HQ so we could have gone to dinner straight from work and you wouldn't be here now but, what I really owe you an apology for is that, when you didn't show up, I didn't think anything was wrong. I thought you had gotten a better offer and had abandoned me and our plans. I didn't trust you, Napoleon. I didn't trust our friendship. I am so sorry, partner. You didn't deserve what I thought about you. I'm not a good partner."

A moment later, he felt a hand stroke his hair. He turned around to see Napoleon looking at him. "Illya," he said, "you're a great partner. I've read your file; you're used to losing people, sad to say, so I guess it's not strange that you would have thought that way about me. But, I'm not any of those people from your past so, if I don't show up when I said I would, come get me because I need help!" He laughed at his joke and then groaned, "Oh, don't make me laugh, my ribs are killing me."

Illya pointed at the nightstand. "The doctor left pain pills if you need them." As he expected, the bedridden man shook his head. "Very well, then," he continued, "Section Three agents will relieve me at 6AM and handle your transfer to UNCLE Medical tomorrow afternoon. It's not your own bed but, at least, it will be familiar. Napoleon, I appreciate what you said and I promise you that I will not doubt our friendship again. You should try to get some more sleep. I'll be here if you need me."

Napoleon closed his eyes and relaxed. Something told him as he drifted off, that his partner would always be there for him from now on.


End file.
